


Vigil

by missm0neypenny



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Heavy Angst, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm0neypenny/pseuds/missm0neypenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The doctors had told them that if the operation were successful, he had a 20% chance of survival, but he knew the truth."</p><p>Written in response to the LJ rennerobsession Pic-Fic Challenge from 2/15/13. </p><p>This is a work of fiction inspired by a photograph. The characters are fictional and not based on any real people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vigil

Pain and discomfort woke him. Rest was elusive with all the wires and tubes attached to him, inserted into him. He was glad, though, that he was awake in the pre-dawn gloom. It gave him the opportunity to watch her sleep, curled uncomfortably in the recliner at his bedside, a deep furrow between her eyes, fists clenched tight under her chin, mouth relaxed in a child's pout. His beautiful wife. 

Loving her was the best decision he ever made. It was a choice he made daily, returning to their life together despite the temptations of other women. No one else could make his life as complete as the mother of his children. 

Thinking of his babies filled him with anguish greater than any symptom he had battled. His beautiful boy. His precious girl. He was wracked with grief at the thought of some kind-hearted friend someday taking his son to his first ballgame. He was profoundly sad at the idea of his brother walking his princess down the aisle, her stopping to leave a single flower from her bouquet on an empty seat in the front row. Those kids were the best thing he ever did. And he was about to leave them with nothing but sadness, cursing them with abandonment issues. He could only hope their mother would love them enough for two parents, would tell them every day how proud he was of them. 

With the ventilator tube down his throat, he couldn't even wake her to ask if she knew that was what he wanted. He would never speak to his wife again. In a few hours, as the anesthesiologist administered the sedative, they would silently scream their “I love you”s through widened eyes and clasped hands. But he would never again whisper it in her ear when he trapped her from behind at the kitchen sink. Never again would they murmur in the darkness of their bedroom, spooned together until one of them drifted asleep. Never again would he lick her awake, lips and tongue dragging ecstatic moans from her mouth before they had even said “Good Morning.” Knowing that a lifetime of these moments was beyond his reach made him feel dead already, like he had started crossing over and only his wasted body and his regret lingered behind. 

The doctors had told them that if the operation were successful, he had a 20% chance of survival, but he knew the truth. He could feel it in the numbness of his toes, in the weakness of his hands. He could tell from the way sounds came to him from far away, from above the surface of the water he seemed to be under. He knew this was the end. 

This was the last time he would wake up. He let the despair wash over him.


End file.
